Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Part one, Chapter five of A Study in Scarlet. This
is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the
public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit
LibriVox dot org. Recorded by Laurie Ann Walden. A Study
in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Cunnan Doyle, Part one, Chapter five.
Our advertisement brings a visitor. Our morning's exertions had been
(00:25):
too much for my weak health, and I was tired out.
In the afternoon, after Holmes's departure for the concert, I
lay down upon the sofa and endeavored to get a
couple of hours sleep. It was a useless attempt. My
mind had been too much excited by all that had occurred,
and the strange fancies and surmises crowded into it. Every
time that I closed my eyes, I saw before me
(00:46):
the distorted, baboon like countenance of the murdered man. So
sinister was the impression which that face had produced upon
me that I found it difficult to feel anything but
gratitude for him who had removed its owner from the world.
If ever human features bespoke vice of the most malignant type,
they were certainly those of Enoch J. Drebber of Cleveland. Still,
(01:08):
I recognized that justice must be done, and that the
depravity of the victim was no condonement in the eyes
of the law. The more I thought of it, the
more extraordinary did my companion's hypothesis that the man had
been poisoned appear. I remember how he had sniffed his lips,
and had no doubt that he had detected something which
had given rise to the idea. Then again, if not poison,
(01:32):
what had caused the man's death, since there was neither
wound nor marks of strangulation. But on the other hand,
whose blood was that which lay so thickly upon the floor.
There were no signs of a struggle, nor had the
victim any weapon with which he might have wounded an antagonist.
As long as all these questions were unsolved, I felt
that sleep would be no easy matter, either for Holmes
(01:54):
or myself. His quiet, self confident manner convinced me that
he had already formed a theory which explained all the facts,
though what it was I could not for an instant conjecture.
He was very late in returning, so late that I
knew that the concert could not have detained him all
the time. Dinner was on the table before he appeared.
(02:15):
It was magnificent, he said, as he took his seat.
Do you remember what Darwin says about music? He claims
that the power of producing and appreciating it existed among
the human race long before the power of speech was
arrived at. Perhaps that is why we are so subtly
influenced by it. There are vague memories in our souls
of those misty centuries when the world was in its childhood.
(02:39):
That's rather a broad idea, I remarked. One's ideas must
be as broad as nature if they are to interpret nature.
He answered, what's the matter. You're not looking quite yourself.
This Brixton Road affair has upset you. To tell the truth,
it has, I said, I ought to be more case
hardened after my Afghan experience. I saw my own comrades
(03:02):
hacked to pieces at my wand without losing my nerve,
I can understand. There is a mystery about this which
stimulates the imagination. Where there is no imagination, there is
no horror. Have you seen the evening paper? No, it
gives a fairly good account of the affair. It does
not mention the fact that when the man was raised
(03:22):
up a woman's wedding ring fell upon the floor. It
is just as well it does not. Why look at
this advertisement, he answered, I had one sent to every
paper this morning immediately after the affair. He threw the
paper across to me and I glanced at the place
indicated it was the first announcement in the found column
(03:44):
in Brixton Road this morning. It ran a plain gold
wedding ring found in the roadway between the white Hart
Tavern and Holland Grove. Apply doctor Watson to twenty one
b Baker Street between eight and nine this evening. Excuse
my using your name, he said, If I used my own,
some of these dunderheads would recognize it and want to
(04:04):
meddle in the affair. That is all right, I answered,
But supposing any one applies, I have no ring. Oh yes,
you have said, he handing me one. This will do
very well. It is almost a facsimile. And who do
you expect will answer this advertisement? Why the man in
(04:25):
the brown coat our floorid friend with the square toes.
If he does not come himself, he will send an accomplice.
Would he not consider it as too dangerous? Not at all?
If my view of the case is correct, and I
have every reason to believe that it is. This man
would rather risk anything than lose the ring. According to
(04:45):
my notion, he dropped it while stooping over Drebber's body,
and did not miss it at the time. After leaving
the house, he discovered his loss and hurried back, but
found the police already in possession. Owing to his own
folly in leaving the candle burning, he had to pretend
to be dr in order to allay the suspicions which
might have been aroused by his appearance at the gate.
Now put yourself in that man's place. On thinking the
(05:08):
matter over, it must have occurred to him that it
was possible that he had lost the ring in the
road after leaving the house. What would he do? Then?
He would eagerly look out for the evening papers, in
the hope of seeing it. Among the articles found. His eye,
of course, would light upon this. He would be overjoyed.
Why should he fear a trap. There would be no
(05:29):
reason in his eyes why the finding of the ring
should be connected with the murder. He would come, He
will come, You shall see him within an hour. And
then I asked, oh, you can leave me to deal
with him. Then have you any arms? I have my
old service revolver and a few cartridges. You had better
(05:50):
clean it and load it. He will be a desperate man,
and though I shall take him unawares, it is as
well to be ready for anything. I went to my
bedroom and followed his advice. When I returned with the pistol,
the table had been cleared and Holmes was engaged in
his favorite occupation of scraping upon his violin. The plot thickens,
(06:11):
he said. As I entered, I have just had an
answer to my American telegram. My view of the case
is the correct one, and that is I asked eagerly.
My fiddle would be the better for new strings, he remarked.
Put your pistol in your pocket. When the fellow comes,
speak to him in an ordinary way. Leave the rest
(06:31):
to me. Don't frighten him by looking at him too hard.
It is eight o'clock now, I said, glancing at my watch. Yes,
he will probably be here in a few minutes. Open
the door slightly. That will do. Now, put the key
on the inside. Thank you. This is a queer old
book I picked up at a stall yesterday. De Juri Interginte's,
(06:54):
published in Latin at Liege in the Lowlands in sixteen
forty two. Charles's head was still firm on his shoulders
when this little brown backed volume was struck off. Who
is the printer Philippe de Croix, whoever he may have been?
On the fly leaf, in very faded ink, is written
ex libris youly only White? I wonder who William White
(07:15):
was some pragmatical seventeenth century lawyer. I suppose his writing
has a legal twist about it. Here comes our man,
I think. As he spoke there was a sharp ring
at the bell Sherlock Holmes rose softly and moved his
chair in the direction of the door. We heard the
servant pass along the hall, and the sharp click of
the latch as she opened it. Does doctor Watson live here?
(07:39):
Asked a clear but rather harsh voice. We could not
hear the servant's reply, but the door closed, and some
one began to ascend the stairs. The footfall was an
uncertain and shuffling one. A look of surprise passed over
the face of my companion as he listened to it.
It came slowly along the passage, and there was a
feeble tap at the door, come in, I cried at
(08:03):
my summons. Instead of the man of violence whom we expected,
a very old and wrinkled woman hobbled into the apartment.
She appeared to be dazzled by the sudden blaze of light,
and after dropping a curtsey, she stood blinking at us
with her bleared eyes and fumbling in her pocket with nervous,
shaky fingers. I glanced at my companion, and his face
had assumed such a disconsolate expression that it was all
(08:25):
I could do to keep my countenance. The old crone
drew out an evening paper and pointed at our advertisement.
It's this As has brought me good gentleman, she said,
dropping another curtsey, a gold wedding ring in the Brixton Road.
It belongs to my girl, Sally, As was married only
this time twelvemonth, which her husband is steward aboard a
(08:45):
union boat. And what he'd say if he comes home
and found her without her ring is more than I
can think, he being short enough at the best of times,
but more especially when he has the drink. If it
please you, she went to the circus last night along
with is that her ring? I asked the lord be thanked,
cried the old woman. Sallie will be a glad woman
(09:06):
this night. That's the ring, and what may your address be?
I inquired, taking up a pencil. Thirteen Duncan Street, Houndstitch,
A weary way from here. The Brixton Road does not
lie between any circus and houndstitch, said Sherlock Holmes sharply.
The old woman faced round and looked keenly at him
(09:27):
from her little red brimmed eyes. The gentleman asked me
for my address. She said, Sallie lives in lodgings at
three Mayfield Place, Peckham. And your name is My name
is Sawyer. Hers is Dennis, which Tom Dennis married her,
and a smart, clean lad too, as long as he
is at sea, and no steward in the company more
(09:49):
thought of. But when on shore, what with the women,
and what with the liquor shops? Here is your ring, missus, Sawyer,
I interrupted, in obedience to a sign from my companion.
It clearly belongs to your daughter, and I am glad
to be able to restore it to the rightful owner.
With many mumbled blessings and protestations of gratitude, the old
crone packed it away in her pocket and shuffled off
(10:11):
down the stairs. Sherlock Holm sprang to his feet the
moment that she was gone, and rushed into his room.
He returned in a few seconds, enveloped in an ulster
and a cravat. I'll follow her, he said hurriedly. She
must be an accomplice and will lead me to him.
Wait up for me. The hall door had hardly slammed
behind our visitor before Holmes had descended the stair. Looking
(10:35):
through the window, I could see her walking feebly along
the other side, while her pursuer dogged her some little
distance behind. Either his whole theory is incorrect, I thought
to myself, or else he will be led now to
the heart of the mystery. There was no need for
him to ask me to wait up for him, for
I felt that sleep was impossible until I heard the
(10:56):
result of his adventure. It was close upon nine when
he set out. I had no idea how long he
might be, but I sat stolidly, puffing at my pipe
and skipping over the pages of Henry Murger's vid Beau. M.
Ten o'clock passed, and I heard the footsteps of the
maid as she pattered off to bed eleven, and the
more stately tread of the landlady passed my door, bound
(11:19):
for the same destination. It was close upon twelve before
I heard the sharp sound of his latch key. The
instant he entered, I saw by his face that he
had not been successful. Amusement and chagrin seemed to be
struggling for the mastery, until the former suddenly carried the day,
and he burst into a hearty laugh. I wouldn't have
(11:39):
the Scotland yarders know it for the world, he cried,
dropping into his chair. I have chaffed them so much
that they would never have let me hear the end
of it. I can afford to laugh because I know
that I will be even with them in the long run.
What is it, then, I asked, Oh, I don't mind
telling a story against myself. That creature had gone a
(12:00):
little way when she began to limp and show every
sign of being footsore. Presently she came to a halt
and hailed a four wheeler which was passing. I managed
to be close to her so as to hear the address.
But I need not have been so anxious, for she
sang it out loud enough to be heard at the
other side of the street. Drive to thirteen Duncan Street,
(12:21):
Hounds Ditch, She cried. This begins to look genuine, I thought,
and having seen her safely inside, I perched myself behind.
That's an art which every detective should be an expert at.
Well away we rattled and never drew rein until we
reached the street in question. I hopped off before we
came to the door, and strolled down the street in
(12:42):
an easy lounging way. I saw the cab pull up,
The driver jumped down, and I saw him open the
door and stand expectantly. Nothing came out, though when I
reached him he was groping about frantically in the empty
cab and giving vent to the finest assorted collection of
oaths that ever I listened to. There was no sign
or trace of his passenger, and I fear it will
(13:04):
be some time before he gets his fare. On inquiring
at number thirteen, we found that the house belonged to
a respectable paperhanger named Kesick, and that no one of
the name either of Sawyer or Dennis, had ever been
heard of there. You don't mean to say, I cried,
in amazement that that tottering feeble old woman was able
to get out of the cab while it was in motion,
(13:26):
without either you or the driver seeing her. Old woman
be damned, said Sherlock Holmes, sharply, we were the old
women to be so taken in. It must have been
a young man, and an active one too, Besides being
an incomparable actor. The get up was inimitable. He saw
that he was followed no doubt, and used this means
(13:46):
of giving me the slip. It shows that the man
we are after is not as lonely as I imagined
he was, but has friends who are ready to risk
something for him. Now, doctor, you were looking done up,
take my advice and turn in. I was certainly feeling
very weary, so I obeyed his injunction. I left Holmes
seated in front of the smoldering fire, and long into
(14:07):
the watches of the night, I heard the low, melancholy
wailings of his violin, and knew that he was still
pondering over the strange problem which he had set himself
to unravel. End of Part one, Chapter five
Part one, Chapter five of A Study in Scarlet. This
is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the
public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit
LibriVox dot org. Recorded by Laurie Ann Walden. A Study
in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Cunnan Doyle, Part one, Chapter five.
Our advertisement brings a visitor. Our morning's exertions had been
(00:25):
too much for my weak health, and I was tired out.
In the afternoon, after Holmes's departure for the concert, I
lay down upon the sofa and endeavored to get a
couple of hours sleep. It was a useless attempt. My
mind had been too much excited by all that had occurred,
and the strange fancies and surmises crowded into it. Every
time that I closed my eyes, I saw before me
(00:46):
the distorted, baboon like countenance of the murdered man. So
sinister was the impression which that face had produced upon
me that I found it difficult to feel anything but
gratitude for him who had removed its owner from the world.
If ever human features bespoke vice of the most malignant type,
they were certainly those of Enoch J. Drebber of Cleveland. Still,
(01:08):
I recognized that justice must be done, and that the
depravity of the victim was no condonement in the eyes
of the law. The more I thought of it, the
more extraordinary did my companion's hypothesis that the man had
been poisoned appear. I remember how he had sniffed his lips,
and had no doubt that he had detected something which
had given rise to the idea. Then again, if not poison,
(01:32):
what had caused the man's death, since there was neither
wound nor marks of strangulation. But on the other hand,
whose blood was that which lay so thickly upon the floor.
There were no signs of a struggle, nor had the
victim any weapon with which he might have wounded an antagonist.
As long as all these questions were unsolved, I felt
that sleep would be no easy matter, either for Holmes
(01:54):
or myself. His quiet, self confident manner convinced me that
he had already formed a theory which explained all the facts,
though what it was I could not for an instant conjecture.
He was very late in returning, so late that I
knew that the concert could not have detained him all
the time. Dinner was on the table before he appeared.
(02:15):
It was magnificent, he said, as he took his seat.
Do you remember what Darwin says about music? He claims
that the power of producing and appreciating it existed among
the human race long before the power of speech was
arrived at. Perhaps that is why we are so subtly
influenced by it. There are vague memories in our souls
of those misty centuries when the world was in its childhood.
(02:39):
That's rather a broad idea, I remarked. One's ideas must
be as broad as nature if they are to interpret nature.
He answered, what's the matter. You're not looking quite yourself.
This Brixton Road affair has upset you. To tell the truth,
it has, I said, I ought to be more case
hardened after my Afghan experience. I saw my own comrades
(03:02):
hacked to pieces at my wand without losing my nerve,
I can understand. There is a mystery about this which
stimulates the imagination. Where there is no imagination, there is
no horror. Have you seen the evening paper? No, it
gives a fairly good account of the affair. It does
not mention the fact that when the man was raised
(03:22):
up a woman's wedding ring fell upon the floor. It
is just as well it does not. Why look at
this advertisement, he answered, I had one sent to every
paper this morning immediately after the affair. He threw the
paper across to me and I glanced at the place
indicated it was the first announcement in the found column
(03:44):
in Brixton Road this morning. It ran a plain gold
wedding ring found in the roadway between the white Hart
Tavern and Holland Grove. Apply doctor Watson to twenty one
b Baker Street between eight and nine this evening. Excuse
my using your name, he said, If I used my own,
some of these dunderheads would recognize it and want to
(04:04):
meddle in the affair. That is all right, I answered,
But supposing any one applies, I have no ring. Oh yes,
you have said, he handing me one. This will do
very well. It is almost a facsimile. And who do
you expect will answer this advertisement? Why the man in
(04:25):
the brown coat our floorid friend with the square toes.
If he does not come himself, he will send an accomplice.
Would he not consider it as too dangerous? Not at all?
If my view of the case is correct, and I
have every reason to believe that it is. This man
would rather risk anything than lose the ring. According to
(04:45):
my notion, he dropped it while stooping over Drebber's body,
and did not miss it at the time. After leaving
the house, he discovered his loss and hurried back, but
found the police already in possession. Owing to his own
folly in leaving the candle burning, he had to pretend
to be dr in order to allay the suspicions which
might have been aroused by his appearance at the gate.
Now put yourself in that man's place. On thinking the
(05:08):
matter over, it must have occurred to him that it
was possible that he had lost the ring in the
road after leaving the house. What would he do? Then?
He would eagerly look out for the evening papers, in
the hope of seeing it. Among the articles found. His eye,
of course, would light upon this. He would be overjoyed.
Why should he fear a trap. There would be no
(05:29):
reason in his eyes why the finding of the ring
should be connected with the murder. He would come, He
will come, You shall see him within an hour. And
then I asked, oh, you can leave me to deal
with him. Then have you any arms? I have my
old service revolver and a few cartridges. You had better
(05:50):
clean it and load it. He will be a desperate man,
and though I shall take him unawares, it is as
well to be ready for anything. I went to my
bedroom and followed his advice. When I returned with the pistol,
the table had been cleared and Holmes was engaged in
his favorite occupation of scraping upon his violin. The plot thickens,
(06:11):
he said. As I entered, I have just had an
answer to my American telegram. My view of the case
is the correct one, and that is I asked eagerly.
My fiddle would be the better for new strings, he remarked.
Put your pistol in your pocket. When the fellow comes,
speak to him in an ordinary way. Leave the rest
(06:31):
to me. Don't frighten him by looking at him too hard.
It is eight o'clock now, I said, glancing at my watch. Yes,
he will probably be here in a few minutes. Open
the door slightly. That will do. Now, put the key
on the inside. Thank you. This is a queer old
book I picked up at a stall yesterday. De Juri Interginte's,
(06:54):
published in Latin at Liege in the Lowlands in sixteen
forty two. Charles's head was still firm on his shoulders
when this little brown backed volume was struck off. Who
is the printer Philippe de Croix, whoever he may have been?
On the fly leaf, in very faded ink, is written
ex libris youly only White? I wonder who William White
(07:15):
was some pragmatical seventeenth century lawyer. I suppose his writing
has a legal twist about it. Here comes our man,
I think. As he spoke there was a sharp ring
at the bell Sherlock Holmes rose softly and moved his
chair in the direction of the door. We heard the
servant pass along the hall, and the sharp click of
the latch as she opened it. Does doctor Watson live here?
(07:39):
Asked a clear but rather harsh voice. We could not
hear the servant's reply, but the door closed, and some
one began to ascend the stairs. The footfall was an
uncertain and shuffling one. A look of surprise passed over
the face of my companion as he listened to it.
It came slowly along the passage, and there was a
feeble tap at the door, come in, I cried at
(08:03):
my summons. Instead of the man of violence whom we expected,
a very old and wrinkled woman hobbled into the apartment.
She appeared to be dazzled by the sudden blaze of light,
and after dropping a curtsey, she stood blinking at us
with her bleared eyes and fumbling in her pocket with nervous,
shaky fingers. I glanced at my companion, and his face
had assumed such a disconsolate expression that it was all
(08:25):
I could do to keep my countenance. The old crone
drew out an evening paper and pointed at our advertisement.
It's this As has brought me good gentleman, she said,
dropping another curtsey, a gold wedding ring in the Brixton Road.
It belongs to my girl, Sally, As was married only
this time twelvemonth, which her husband is steward aboard a
(08:45):
union boat. And what he'd say if he comes home
and found her without her ring is more than I
can think, he being short enough at the best of times,
but more especially when he has the drink. If it
please you, she went to the circus last night along
with is that her ring? I asked the lord be thanked,
cried the old woman. Sallie will be a glad woman
(09:06):
this night. That's the ring, and what may your address be?
I inquired, taking up a pencil. Thirteen Duncan Street, Houndstitch,
A weary way from here. The Brixton Road does not
lie between any circus and houndstitch, said Sherlock Holmes sharply.
The old woman faced round and looked keenly at him
(09:27):
from her little red brimmed eyes. The gentleman asked me
for my address. She said, Sallie lives in lodgings at
three Mayfield Place, Peckham. And your name is My name
is Sawyer. Hers is Dennis, which Tom Dennis married her,
and a smart, clean lad too, as long as he
is at sea, and no steward in the company more
(09:49):
thought of. But when on shore, what with the women,
and what with the liquor shops? Here is your ring, missus, Sawyer,
I interrupted, in obedience to a sign from my companion.
It clearly belongs to your daughter, and I am glad
to be able to restore it to the rightful owner.
With many mumbled blessings and protestations of gratitude, the old
crone packed it away in her pocket and shuffled off
(10:11):
down the stairs. Sherlock Holm sprang to his feet the
moment that she was gone, and rushed into his room.
He returned in a few seconds, enveloped in an ulster
and a cravat. I'll follow her, he said hurriedly. She
must be an accomplice and will lead me to him.
Wait up for me. The hall door had hardly slammed
behind our visitor before Holmes had descended the stair. Looking
(10:35):
through the window, I could see her walking feebly along
the other side, while her pursuer dogged her some little
distance behind. Either his whole theory is incorrect, I thought
to myself, or else he will be led now to
the heart of the mystery. There was no need for
him to ask me to wait up for him, for
I felt that sleep was impossible until I heard the
(10:56):
result of his adventure. It was close upon nine when
he set out. I had no idea how long he
might be, but I sat stolidly, puffing at my pipe
and skipping over the pages of Henry Murger's vid Beau. M.
Ten o'clock passed, and I heard the footsteps of the
maid as she pattered off to bed eleven, and the
more stately tread of the landlady passed my door, bound
(11:19):
for the same destination. It was close upon twelve before
I heard the sharp sound of his latch key. The
instant he entered, I saw by his face that he
had not been successful. Amusement and chagrin seemed to be
struggling for the mastery, until the former suddenly carried the day,
and he burst into a hearty laugh. I wouldn't have
(11:39):
the Scotland yarders know it for the world, he cried,
dropping into his chair. I have chaffed them so much
that they would never have let me hear the end
of it. I can afford to laugh because I know
that I will be even with them in the long run.
What is it, then, I asked, Oh, I don't mind
telling a story against myself. That creature had gone a
(12:00):
little way when she began to limp and show every
sign of being footsore. Presently she came to a halt
and hailed a four wheeler which was passing. I managed
to be close to her so as to hear the address.
But I need not have been so anxious, for she
sang it out loud enough to be heard at the
other side of the street. Drive to thirteen Duncan Street,
(12:21):
Hounds Ditch, She cried. This begins to look genuine, I thought,
and having seen her safely inside, I perched myself behind.
That's an art which every detective should be an expert at.
Well away we rattled and never drew rein until we
reached the street in question. I hopped off before we
came to the door, and strolled down the street in
(12:42):
an easy lounging way. I saw the cab pull up,
The driver jumped down, and I saw him open the
door and stand expectantly. Nothing came out, though when I
reached him he was groping about frantically in the empty
cab and giving vent to the finest assorted collection of
oaths that ever I listened to. There was no sign
or trace of his passenger, and I fear it will
(13:04):
be some time before he gets his fare. On inquiring
at number thirteen, we found that the house belonged to
a respectable paperhanger named Kesick, and that no one of
the name either of Sawyer or Dennis, had ever been
heard of there. You don't mean to say, I cried,
in amazement that that tottering feeble old woman was able
to get out of the cab while it was in motion,
(13:26):
without either you or the driver seeing her. Old woman
be damned, said Sherlock Holmes, sharply, we were the old
women to be so taken in. It must have been
a young man, and an active one too, Besides being
an incomparable actor. The get up was inimitable. He saw
that he was followed no doubt, and used this means
(13:46):
of giving me the slip. It shows that the man
we are after is not as lonely as I imagined
he was, but has friends who are ready to risk
something for him. Now, doctor, you were looking done up,
take my advice and turn in. I was certainly feeling
very weary, so I obeyed his injunction. I left Holmes
seated in front of the smoldering fire, and long into
(14:07):
the watches of the night, I heard the low, melancholy
wailings of his violin, and knew that he was still
pondering over the strange problem which he had set himself
to unravel. End of Part one, Chapter five
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Ding dong! Join your culture consultants, Matt Rogers and Bowen Yang, on an unforgettable journey into the beating heart of CULTURE. Alongside sizzling special guests, they GET INTO the hottest pop-culture moments of the day and the formative cultural experiences that turned them into Culturistas. Produced by the Big Money Players Network and iHeartRadio.
Crime Junkie
Does hearing about a true crime case always leave you scouring the internet for the truth behind the story? Dive into your next mystery with Crime Junkie. Every Monday, join your host Ashley Flowers as she unravels all the details of infamous and underreported true crime cases with her best friend Brit Prawat. From cold cases to missing persons and heroes in our community who seek justice, Crime Junkie is your destination for theories and stories you won’t hear anywhere else. Whether you're a seasoned true crime enthusiast or new to the genre, you'll find yourself on the edge of your seat awaiting a new episode every Monday. If you can never get enough true crime... Congratulations, you’ve found your people. Follow to join a community of Crime Junkies! Crime Junkie is presented by Audiochuck Media Company.
The Brothers Ortiz
The Brothers Ortiz is the story of two brothers–both successful, but in very different ways. Gabe Ortiz becomes a third-highest ranking officer in all of Texas while his younger brother Larry climbs the ranks in Puro Tango Blast, a notorious Texas Prison gang. Gabe doesn’t know all the details of his brother’s nefarious dealings, and he’s made a point not to ask, to protect their relationship. But when Larry is murdered during a home invasion in a rented beach house, Gabe has no choice but to look into what happened that night. To solve Larry’s murder, Gabe, and the whole Ortiz family, must ask each other tough questions.